Delicious
by Anna Molly
Summary: There's just not enough Percy x violent!Marcus Flint fluff out there. To make up for it, I give you this lovely little drabble. Because what can you think of that's better than a bloodied up Weasley? Nothing, that's what. xD


**A/N:** Don't mind that I put this as "romantic horror." Violence wasn't an option... xD

So I was talking to another Marcus/Oliver shipper today, and somehow the conversation led to Percy/Marcus/Ollie. And then she said something about how Marcus would rape poor little Percy something awful every single time. And it inspired me to write something with an ultraviolent!Marcus. I don't think this constitues as fluff in anyone's mind except my own, but as far as I'm concerned, it's pretty damn fluffly. Putting it at M because I think dear ol' Marcus is just a little too kinky to be safe at T. And because he has a mouth like a sailor. Violent Flint/Percy shippers (if you exist), enjoy. xD

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"Hey, you there! What are you doing out in the halls so late?"

Flint's hand flew to his wand and he jerked around at the startling noise, but grunted with annoyance when he saw who it was.

"Get the fuck out of here, Weasley," he spat at the younger boy. "You don't have any damn rights to be down here."

"I'm a prefect, you kno-"

"A bloody Gryffindor prefect!"

"That still gives me the right to be wherever I want to be, Flint."

"No, Weasley, it doesn't," he growled, forcefully drawing out the 's' in the other boy's name. "Being a teacher suck-up doesn't give you any rights at all to be wandering around in the bloody Slytherin dungeons. You fucking want to get yourself attacked, wanker?"

"Your concern touches me Flint, really, but I don't think anything is going to attack a prefect doing his job."

"I was actually implying more along the lines of some_one_."

Percy puffed out his chest indignantly, and Marcus smirked. He wouldn't think of a comeback for that, he never did. Every single time Flint caught him sneaking around in his dungeons, they argued like this. And Weasley never, ever won. The pale boy flushed red with frustrated humiliation and, a bit to Flint's surprise, did something he'd never done before. Percy shoved him in the chest, a pathetic attempt at attack. Flint's skin burned under the touch, though he didn't quite understand why. It certainly wasn't pain, Percy was so weak that Marcus hadn't moved at all.

Percy immediately regretted the action. Flint must've been twice his damn size, and he was trying to push him around?! The prefect winced and scrunched his neck a little, preparing for a blow that never seemed to come. For no obvious reason, his face remained wholly intact. In fact, Marcus didn't seem to respond at all. He just stood there, licking his bucked upper teeth and staring weirdly. Percy was so weak, Flint almost felt embarrassed for him. He could've beaten Weasley to nothing without so much as breaking a sweat. He pulled his tongue in and the corner of his mouth cocked into a wicked smirk.

"Flint, wh-whatever you're thinking, I'm sure it'll get you expelled."

Percy's voice was shaking. Marcus felt inexplicably empowered by that fact. He could've broken Weasley in half without even trying. And he wanted to, Merlin he wanted to. He wanted to fucking _hurt_ Percy. His fingers twitched a little, and he flexed them into a fist. He wanted to hurt Percy, but not in the same way he wanted to hurt someone who called him a troll or beat him at Quidditch. No, Flint mused, he wanted to hurt Percy in a way that was entirely unique. He always had. Always wanted to beat Percy down so _fucking_ much. It was the special kind of hurt Marcus didn't feel towards anyone but that wiry prefect. He wanted to grab those weak little toothpick arms and crush them in his hands. He wanted to scratch up all that disgustingly pasty skin until it was red and black and blue all over. Flint licked his lips, enjoying how scared Percy looked by the long silence. He wanted to pull that head back and hear the boy scream his fucking name. Marcus shivered a little with delight.

"Now, hey, d-don't get yourself in trouble. I'll leave if you want me to, I mean-"

"Shut up!" Flint hissed, suddenly slamming Percy against the wall.

"Fli-?!"

"_Shut up_!" There was no anger in his voice. In fact, if Percy hadn't known better, he would've realized it sounded incredibly like how the couples he caught snogging in the halls whispered to each other.

Flint wrapped one hand around the boy's neck, loving the feel of Percy's pulse racing under his fingertips. He pinned the boy harder against the wall, and was rewarded by a squeak of terror. Marcus completely shuddered with delight. Percy had lots of terror, it was plain to see. And he loved every damn bit of it.

Not really needing either of his hands to keep Percy against the wall, Flint took his free one and placed it on the boy's temple, running it down to his chin, and then slowly along his neck. Percy was breathing so hard it was hysterical. For a second, Marcus was even a bit worried his bulk might've been crushing the boy's lungs. He caught himself and pushed the thoughts away, though. Worrying was not something you did for the person you were about to mutilate.

"F-Flint...?"

Marcus shuddered again, feeling delightfully weak in the knees at the boy's horrified tone.

"Quiet, Weasley!" He drew out the 's' on purpose again, and Percy squinted his eyes shut. Marcus licked his lips happily and squeezed the hand he had clamped around Percy's neck. Hard. Open eyes again, and even more fear. It was fucking poetry to Marcus. He squeezed even harder and Percy's chest stopped fluttering under his own. The red-haired boy scrabbled and clawed at the hand around his neck, but Marcus was so much stronger. Little gags of terror, that was all Percy could do. Flint took a long, satisfied breath and slammed Percy's head against the wall. The boy's vision blurred and went white for a second, and he stopped trying to pry off Flint's hand. But now, having fulfilled it's purpose, the hand opened on its own. Percy gasped and sputtered, rubbing at his throat.

"What the- What the hell, Flint?" he choked out in a raspy voice. No more fear, the larger boy noticed with disappointment.

"Don't talk!" Marcus whispered fiercely, and the fright returned to Percy's face. He reached up and ran what had been his strangling-hand through the Gryffindor's curly red hair. Percy was shaking violenty beneath him. Flint ran his finger along the edge of Percy's face again, all the malice evoprating from his own profile for brief second. Then, without warning, Marcus spun Percy and himself around so that he was against the wall and yanked back the Gryffindor's head, exposing a lot of pale neck. Flint took several deep breaths and leaned back to steady his wobbling knees.

"What're you- What're-?!" Percy squeaked. Marcus yanked his head back further and the boy hissed in pain. He didn't want fear then, he just wanted to hurt.

He put his chin on Percy's shoulder, staring longingly at the white flesh. It was so clean, unscathed. It looked so damned safe. Why, Percy looked simply... _delicious_. Without a thought as to why, Flint licked a small spot on the other boy's neck. Percy shivered and Marcus could see his hairs stand on end. He licked again and got the same result. Playfully, Marcus gnawed at the prefect's neck. He could almost feel Percy's terror leaking into himself. The breath and spit was hot on his neck, but Flint knew the boy's blood would be running cold. That fact made him feel so good, so much more alive. He licked Percy a third time, and the prefect made a kind of strangled noise in horror.

Flint was totally, utterly, and completely in control of that pathetic body. He could've done whatever he wanted with it. If prissy-Percy never showed up for breakfast, who would know? Marcus licked him - practically slobbering - again and again until saliva dripped down both of their necks. It felt amazing to be so in charge. He could fucking kill Percy any time he wanted to, and that was where the terror came from. But he would never kill Percy. That was a different kind of hurt, not Percy's hurt. Still, terror was terror, no matter the motive behind it.

Flint gave Percy's head some slack, now a little frightened he might have broken the boy's neck. A frenzied, sputtered "Don't!" gave him all the assurance he needed. Marcus whispered in a gravelly voice.

"Say my name, you little bitch. Scream it!" With that, he jerked Percy's head back again.

"Bloody- agh!"

"Say my name!" He yanked harder.

"Flint! _Flint_!" Percy yelled.

"My _name,_ you fucking bastard!" Flint roared, and instead of yanking again, he dug his teeth deep into the boy's neck. A warm, coppery taste filled his mouth that made him feel so good he wanted to cry, and Percy screamed.

"_Marcus_!"

A jolt of euphoria shot down Flint's spine, violently racking his whole body with tremors. He moaned in delight and let go of Percy with both hands. The boy clamped his hand over his neck and writhed away with desperate urgency. Marcus hadn't bit too hard, not anywhere it would do real damage. He'd just wanted to bite Percy, to do the one thing that hurt like nothing else could. An invasion of the body, a theft of what was so neccessary to life. He'd wanted to fucking bite Percy, and he had.

Flint let himself slide down the wall, breathing heavily. He slumped against his knees and closed his eyes, feeling completely elated. When the boy opened one droopy lid, he was pleasantly surprised to see Percy still standing there, quivering and rubbing his neck.

"Want some more, bitch?" he chuckled. Percy jumped and turned around to face him at the sound, but Marcus was on his feet and had him pinned up again before he could make a run for it. He wanted more of Percy. "Damn," he hisssed under his breath. He really, _really_ wanted more of Percy.

"M-Marcus..." he stammered pitifully. "Please. No, p-please!"

Flint ran his fingers through the boy's hair again, the smile vanishing from his face. He ruffled the neatly-styled curls into a beautiful mess, but didn't grab or yank any of it. Marcus was done hurting Percy for the moment. The smaller boy suddenly wriggled his body, thrashing so hard that, in a wave of pity, Flint let him go. His neck had started bleeding again, and Marcue impulsiely started licking his teeth. He wondered what would happen if he licked the boy's neck again, then was hit with a fleeting curiousity of what it would be like to lick him everywhere else. And - he crooned a little - be licked himself. Flint grabbed Percy and pinned him on the wall again, leaning his face in so close that the prefect's terrified breath was warm and sticky on his nose.

"Flint, wh-?!"

Mentally, he smirked with triumph. There was no way Percy could have finish the scream with a tongue jammed in his mouth, not with lips pressed so hard over his. Marcus wedged Percy's glasses off and dropped them on the ground, then put his other hand behind the boy's thin neck and held him tighter. He loved ruling Percy like this, loved feeling hot and wet and accomplished. He pulled away to breathe, then leaned back in and kissed Percy even more fiercely.

Marcus was nothing less than shocked when the favor was returned.

Percy wrapped his arms tight around the older boy, the rest of him going limp in Flint's hands. He groaned with satisfaction, putty in in the Slytherin's arms. It felt... "Fucker," Marcus mumbled jokingly. If his mouth hadn't been so occupied, he would have grinned. A real, triumphant smile, not one of his usual crooked smirks. This was better than terror. Only by a little, but still better. He didn't even realize how tightly he was holding the prefect until Percy, after noticing his feet weren't on the ground any longer, picked up his legs and flung them around Flint's hips. He moaned and fell back against the wall at the unexpected contact.

"M-Mar-Marcus," Percy sputtered, pulling away and grinning wildly. Flint closed his eyes and shivered so hard at this new rendition of his name that he all but dropped Percy. It sounded better like that, a lot better.

"Percy," he grunted, the sound coming out more emotional than he'd meant it to. It felt amazing like this. It felt amazing when they both wanted the same thing.

Marcus forgot completely where he was for a second and, totally absorbed in his own needs, pushed the other boy up against the wall, then slid down on top him, never once letting their faces apart. One of his legs kicked out spasmically, and he waited for Percy to react, but only chuckled when he realized why he didn't.

"Fuck," Flint teased, "have you never been with _anyone_ before? I'm not sure you're ready for this."

"Try me," Percy laughed, grabbing the Slytherin's hips. Marcus let out a throaty, elated sound that seemed to make Percy even more confident - like Flint's begging had fueled the fire - and he started to fumble frantically with the zipper on the older boy's jeans. Marcus couldn't help but moan more at the long fingers brushing against his flustered skin. It was heaven to his senses. "You just _try_ me."

"Damn right, I will!"

_Screw that last epiphany_, Flint thought with delight. If hurting people made this happen, it was plenty worth doing more often. He pulled his shirt off over his head, then tore Percy's open effortlessly and leaned in to bite him again. Percy hissed, but Marcus knew he liked it. The freckled hands shoved down his pants more than proved that. Flint inhaled sharply.

"Oh bloody, fucking Merlin," he groaned, licking the blood off his teeth. They both _loved_ it.


End file.
